Duck Soup: Extra Spicy
by Master of the Boot
Summary: Things start out bad when Huey, Dewey and Louie get the idea to prank call Alucard. Things only get worse when the boys accidentally give Alucard their Uncle Scrooge's address.


Duck Soup: Extra spicy

Disclaimer: I own no third party properties and make no profit from this. This short story borrows heavily from an episode of _Beavis and Butthead_ , so enjoy!

* * *

Three duck triplets lounged around a grungy, dilapidated apartment in a neighbourhood of North London. The room stank of alcohol, cannabis and mountain dew. Piles of half completed college homework lay about, the answers correct but the writing so sloppy that the professor would need to bring experts from Washington DC to translate.

Huey, Dewey and Louie lollygagged about their apartment, pissing away the time with idiotic iPhone games and openly gendering at the latest bootlegged porno mags bought off a shady Pakistani guy down the street.

"Man," said Huey, "I'm bored."

"Weed delivery from Steve comes in a couple of hours," said Dewey.

"That's not fast enough," buzzed a bored Louie, not looking up from his copy of _Duck tits!_

"Well we gotta do something to kill the time," Huey complained, throwing his IPhone onto a bedbug infested mattress. "Assignment's not due until Monday and none of the girls I seduced called me back."

Thumbing through his porno mag, Louie shot a sideways glance at his brother. "That's because women are disgusted by you Huey. They pretend they're interested so you'll fuck off."

"Yeah, well you're a goose!" Huey shouted at his brother.

"I'll kick your ass!" Louie shouted. And the two brothers started to go at it like starving dogs fighting over meat. The feathers went flying as the two brothers went at it; avoiding the second hand video gaming system and trashing the shit out of their textbooks from Oxford University. Dewey joined the fight just to kill time and the trio started to go nuts.

A knock on the door stopped the fight before serious damage could be done. Like nothing had ever happened, the ducks three split apart and looked at one another trying to decide who would get the door.

Manning up, Dewey decided to get the door. Opening up he saw a fifty year old lady from Portugal. "Hey there Mrs . . . . uh," he paused awkwardly before shouting with artificial happiness, "Mrs. Landlord's wife! How goes it?"

The older woman glared at the college duck before shoving a phone book into his hands with no explanation. She then took the liberty of slamming the door shut for the duck.

"Thanks," quacked Dewey. He looked down at the book in his arms, "Do they still have phone books? This looks new."

"Hey!" said Louie, "Let's call someone!" Two quacks of agreement greeted him and like kids at Christmas the brothers eagerly began to choose a name from the book.

Eventually they settled on a number by picking a name that sounded vaguely funny.

Some guy named Blenner or something.

 _Hellsing Headquarters_

Alucard lazed about his cellar in a moth eaten comfy chair. His throne was packed off to the side for special occasions; because that thing was uncomfortable as hell.

Currently the ancient vampire master was watching episodes of _Ren and Stimpy_ on an ancient old TV set that he'd taken from someone's house during a mission which saw no human survivors. The bastards were dead and it wasn't like Alucard just had money for a brand new plasma screen.

 _Ring Ring!_

Mumbling to himself, Alucard grabbed the receiver and put it to his ear. "Hello," he rumbled.

On the other end of the line, he heard the sound of ducks quacking with laughter. The vampire king frowned and pulled away from the receiver. The buzzing, cackling noise of ducks sounded a great deal like a kazoo orchestra.

Without saying a word, Alucard hung up the phone and resumed his show.

 _The boy's house_

"That' was great!" said Louie.

"Yeah!" agreed Huey, "Let's call that guy again!"

"But let's say something this time!" Dewey interjected.

 _Hellsing Headquarters, Two minutes later_

Alucard glanced over at the ringing phone next to his chair. In no great hurry, he picked up the receiver and greeted, "Hello."

The duck kazoo orchestra greeted his ear, buzzing and extremely annoying. One of the ducks on the line quacked at him, " _you suck!"_ and hung up the phone.

A little bit irritated, Alucard hung up the phone and went back to his show. He grumbled a bit to himself and turned up the volume on his TV. Normally he wouldn't have picked up the phone a second time but he was expecting a call from the public library about a copy of _The Matrix_ he'd put on hold.

 _Hellsing headquarters, Ten Seconds later_

 _Ring Ring!_

Alucard picked up the phone, lip curling up in anger. "Hello!' he growled.

" _You gobble knobs!_ " quacked the duck.

Equal parts confusion and anger hit Alucard, "Who the hell is this? Is this some kind of a joke?"

The duck laughter went on without response and the phone hung up.

It would not be the last time.

 _Hellsing Headquarters, Two weeks later_

 _Ring Ring!_

The phone woke Alucard up from his sleep of the damned.

"What?!" the bleary eyed vampire shouted out and brushed the crusted, empty blood bags off of him before grabbing the dreaded receiver of his old rotary phone. "Hello?" he said as if this were the first time he was getting this call from this number.

He heard the sound of a toilet flushing followed by . . . you guessed it!

Three.

Laughing.

Ducks.

"YOU!" Alucard screamed, throwing the phone across the room.

 _Hellsing Headquarters, One Month later_

Alucard sat up in his chair, just staring at the phone. "Let it be the Matrix. Let it be the Matrix," he muttered, one eye twitching. "The hold must have arrived by now."

 _Ring Ring!_

"Hello!" he jumped at the phone with desperation.

And then . . .

Somebody on the other end of the line farted on the receiver. And three ducks began laughing.

A deep, subsonic rumbling started in Alucard's sternum. It rose up into his bellows and crashed past his throat. The master vampire let out an incoherent, psychotic growl of pure hatred. His eyes bulged; face tightened and for the most part looked like he was trying to shit out the Chrysler building.

The receiver of the phone was crushed in his hand like a human tibia.

Foaming like a rabid dog, Alucard looked through red vision at the caller ID he'd bought just for this very reason.

Unhinged laughter pealed out of him as his whole body trembled. Red LD lights read back to him the phone number of the people who'd called him. "Now" he hissed, "Somebody's going to die!"

 _The boy's place, two days later_

The flat of the three duck boys looked even worse than usual. Furniture was smashed, the fridge had been wide open for hours but at least all the homework was done and projects were finished.

Louie lay face down naked, unconscious with a blow up sex doll. Huey angrily played angry birds next to the destroyed gaming system and the giant pile of yet unsmoked cannabis. Louie had gone out for Vindaloo half an hour ago but was nowhere to be seen. Hence it was up to Huey to answer the ringing house phone that they'd stolen from the props department of the Oxford Drama class.

"Hello?" said a red eyed, high as a kite Huey.

" _Why hello, duck friend_ ," said a musical, baritone voice on the other end. " _You've won a free pizza."_

"A pizza?" said Huey, "Oh man that's awesome! I could kiss you if my beak wouldn't knock out your teeth."

The pizza guy chuckled, " _Don't fret one bit, my friend. Now if I could get your address._ "

Huey nodded and smiled enthusiastically, "Yeah, I live at . . ."

Silence hung in the air as thick as the marijuana smoke.

Eventually the man on the phone spoke in disbelief, " _You don't know your own address?"_

Huey gagged on his own embarrassment and thought frantically of where the heck he and his brothers lived. "No, no; I know my address." Sadly his weed addled mind couldn't even remember the address of the local fast food places; let alone his own house. He had the munchies so bad; maybe he could send the pizza to some other place and have it forwarded to him.

"Uh, I live at 10001 Goldstone Avenue, Duckberg, New York."

" _I see, that's a bit out of my range but I'll make due_."

"Yeah that's good," slurred Huey, "And hurry the pizza, I'll give you a tip if you show up fast."

The man on the other end chuckled in a most evil fashion, " _Oh I'll give you a 'tip' when I get there."_

 _Hellsing Headquarters, two seconds later_

Alucard was already booking the flight on his old, blood splattered laptop. Over his shoulder he called out orders to Seras Victoria. "Police Girl, I'm taking a flight to America. I should be back by morning after I've mixed up some fools. I can't kill anyone but they'll be feeling what I've got to hand out."

When he got no reply, he turned around and saw Seras browsing the internet on her phone. "And don't use all the damn data on your phone! I'm expecting a call and the library is going to forward my calls to your phone, understand?"

Seras nodded, "Of course master, I'll keep my ears open," and then she went right back to the website she'd been looking at. The second that Alucard was out the door she gasped, "Oh my god, _Rockhardyaoi21_ updated a fic!"

 _Duckberg, Scrooge McDuck's house, 10800 seconds later_

The home of the world's richest Duck was a sight to behold. It was a mix of immense opulence and inhuman cheapness. Solid gold toilets and sinks coexisted with crumbling drywall, hand carved oak paneling, particle board facades held together by glue and the grace of god as well as electronics straight out of the nineteen seventies.

While the fine furniture had been paid for in pure gold, the furniture in the side rooms and servants quarters was all either bought at the Salvation Army reject aisle or fell off the back of trucks.

In one such side room, Donald Duck and Launchpad McQuack were guarding Scrooge's Viagra supply. At first the two very different ducks passed the time wondering whether old Scrooge actually needed three hundred kilos of the happy pill or if he cheap old grease ball bought it in bulk to save money.

That had gotten old eventually and the two decided to pass the time by playing board games. For the most part Launchpad couldn't understand a single word that Donald said, especially when he lost a game and freaked out. Still, despite his short temper Donald seemed like a really nice guy and did his best to teach Launchpad new games and puzzles.

It was at that moment that Launchpad's luck held out. "Yahtzee!" shouted the pilot duck happily. He wasn't trying to rub it in Donald's face, he was just so happy.

Donald began to curse out Launchpad before calming down and asking in a barely understandable voice, "Want to try another round?"

 _CRASH!_

The door of the Viagra room was kicked off its hinges by a certain shithouse crazy vampire.

"Oh shit!" Launchpad yelped in terror as Alucard swooped across the room and grabbed him by the front of his pilot's jacket.

Alucard snarled at the duck with the Bruce Campbell chin. Foam leaked out of the corners of his mouth and his entire frame trembled with rage. "You little whoretaker, was it you? Was it!"

Donald was running for the exit and Launchpad was trying not to piss himself. "I-I-I didn't do anything," he pleaded with the permanently insane vampire.

The No-Life king growled and wrapped his hand into a fist. Launchpad cried out and tried to brace himself for a devastating punch to the grill.

"Ach, Curse me kilts! You lads are makin' more noise than an army o' bagpipers!" The world's richest duck walked into the room with his trademark cane and top hat . . . and an old boxy nineties style cellular phone.

Now Alucard did not give one whit whether this was the world's richest duck or Jor'El of Krypton; all he cared about was the fact that scrooge was a duck and that he was holding a phone.

Throwing Launchpad at Donald and kicking over the game table, Alucard pointed a trembling finger at the elder duck. "YOU! It's you! I'LL KILL YOU!"

Naturally, where most would have run like hell, Scrooge chose to stand and fight. He brandished his cane at Alucard like a sword, "Better people than you have tried, ya maraudin' mutant!"

What Scrooge had in fighting spirit, he definitely lacked in good sense, self-preservation and logic. There was no way that this was going to end well for him in any universe. The seven foot tall, three hundred pound immortal collided with the three and a half foot tall forty-pound-after-thanksgiving-dinner duck.

Momentum took the two very different non-humans through a wall, blasting subpar drywall dust and poorly installed wall studs into oblivion. Scrooge gasped for breath and choked on free floating asbestos filled drywall dust. He barely got a gasp in before a white gloved hand wrapped around his throat and began to shake him like a rag doll.

Howling like a genuinely broken man, Alucard tossed Scrooge through another wall. A single leap took him towards the downed duck. Picking up the discarded but still serviceable cane, he began to beat Scrooge with it.

 _Whack!_

 _Whack!_

 _Whack!_

Somewhere around the region of Scrooge's head, the cane broke in half and Alucard contemptuously tossed the broken piece of wood away.

Muttering gibberish, Uncle Scrooge was in the worst shape he'd been for some years; and it wasn't over yet. Without even a pause, Alucard lifted Scrooge McDuck up and rammed his head into one of the golden toilets.

The world's richest duck gurgled and bubbled in the bowl as Alucard scowled so hard his face might split in half. "You like how that sounds, Daffy duck!?" he shouted as loud as he could before performing a swirly on Scrooge. "HOW DOES THAT SOUND?"

For a second, he pulled the half drowned duck out of the toilet before shoving his head back into the shit water. "Listen carefully, duck man!" Alucard shouted, flushing the toilet once more, "If you ever call me again, I swear to Christ that I'll kill you and hang you in the window of a Chinese butcher shop!"

He yanked Scrooge's head out of the water once more. The elder duck gagged, spat up water and gasped. Half dead and nearly drowned, Scrooge tried to threaten Alucard. "I'll kill ye, ye son of a bitch!"

Alucard ground his teeth at the duck's defiance before getting an idea. Reaching down, he grabbed Scrooge by the tail and grabbed his cellular phone off the ground. "Well maybe if I shove my phone in this place, you'll stop calling me!"

"What're ye—AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Scrooge cried out in pain and Alucard forcefully and violently shoved the bulky, nineties era cell phone up Scrooge's anus.

Donald and Launchpad scattered like roached when Alucard stomped back into the foyer of McDuck Mansion. Casting his gaze around, the angry vampire found no satisfaction in Scrooge's humiliation and butt-violation with a cell phone. Only getting his copy of _The Matrix_ would sooth his raging fury.

But for now he'd take his anger out on Scrooge's liquor cabinet. The whole thing was a lovely affair, filled with rare and hand crafted Scotch and Irish whiskies totalling in the hundreds of thousands of dollars for the whole cabinet. Alucard tipped the whole thing forward and smashed every single bottle. To make sure everything was smashed; he grabbed a morning star from a nearby antique suit of armour and busted everything.

Then as he walked out, he threw a cigarette lighter over his shoulder and ignited more than a dozen broken bottles of hard and highly flammable liquor. The liquor fire spread rapidly to the carpet and then the curtains.

Then just to be an asshole, he pulled a can of spray paint out of his long Victorian duster and spray painted a penis on the side of Scrooge's limo.

 _London, the Boy's residence, I lost track of time_

Huey, Dewey and Louie had mostly sobered up and were fact checking each other's homework assignments.

"So a guy called telling us that we had a free pizza and you gave him Uncle Scrooge's address?" Louie asked Huey incredulously.

"And you couldn't remember our address?" asked an incredulous Dewey.

"Hey," Huey "I was sure he was legit; besides, everyone forgets their address sometimes."

"Well it doesn't matter," quacked Dewey, "It was probably a prank. Speaking of which, let's prank call that asshole again before we go to class."

His brothers quacked and laughed in agreement, while on the TV, BBC news was covering a story where Scrooge McDuck claimed to have been attacked by a white, zombie NBA player and was offering a reward for anyone who had information about this mysterious red clad attacker.

 _Omake:_

Sister Yumie approached Bishop Enrico Maxwell. The shy nun assassin bowed before the head of the Iscariot order and voiced her concerns, "Bishop Maxwell, I'm worried about Father Anderson."

Maxwell glared at the shy half of the split personality killer nun, "Is that it? Did you come to say anything else or are we finished here?"

Yumie bit her lip, something had to be said. "Well Bishop, since Anderson came back from the Caribbean he's been acting out of character. Even Heinkel and Yumiko are afraid of him."

Maxwell lounged back in his bishop's chair and rolled his eyes. "Oh just because a cannonball took off Anderson's head doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with him. His head grew back just like an arm."

"But he's not the same," protested Yumie, "He's different in every way. Look out the window."

Annoyed, Maxwell got his ass off his cushiony chair and looked out the window. There Father Alexander Anderson had abandoned his priest's garb and was dressed like a pirate; complete with cutlass and flintlocks. Currently the Father Anderson was singing a metal song to the orphans, with Deadpool on the Electric guitar and Ironman on the drums.

 _We live each day like there's nothing to lose,_

 _But a man has needs and that need is booze._

 _They say all the best things in life are free_

 _So give all your beer and your rum to me._

The orphans headbanged to the song and did devil horns with their fingers like Ronnie James Dio.

 _We are here to drink your beer_

 _And steal your rum at the point of a gun_

 _Your alcohol to us will fall_

 _'Cause we are here to drink your beer!_

Then realizing that Maxwell was watching him sing, Anderson looked up with a smile that was more insane than usual and gave Maxwell the middle finger.

Having seen enough, Maxwell handwaved off Yumie's concerns, "Oh Father Anderson is just fine. He just needs to decompress after being around heathens, pirates and voodoo priests for so long." He then sat back down and reached into his wallet, pulling out a black plastic card. "Take my credit card, sister. Go downtown to the liquor store and buy _all_ the Captain Morgan. Bring it all back and give it to Father Anderson before supper; then maybe he won't burn down coastal cities."

* * *

Total plot bunny was this, but so much fun. Song is owned by the band _Alestorm_ , check it out

Next up is my gift story for blacksand1 and then . . . the BIG HELLSING RETURNS!


End file.
